Is this a happy family?
by Soapytoast
Summary: Alfred has always wanted to be a big brother, but what will happen when his older half-brother from England turns up? Especially as Arthur seems to be bring a lot of baggage, most of it emotional.
1. Chapter 1

The rain was hard and heavy on the airport terminals large windows. You could tell just by looking that the anxiety was welling up like knots in the fourteen year old's stomach as he stood, nearly hiding behind his dad, looking at the arrivals board.

"Looks like we were just in time Al, the flight just landed ten minutes ago," His Dad announced resting his clammy hand on the boys shoulder "I wonder if I'll recognise him."

It'd been a surreal few months before when Alfred came back from school to find his dad sat at the table. He smiled solemnly at his son. Alfred's young face twisted with worry, his dad shouldn't have been back from work until at least seven. Something had happened, he just couldn't figure out what.

"Hey kiddo, you know how you've always wanted a brother?"

At first Alfred was confused. All he could do was sit and pick at the peeling varnish on the wood table. As he listened to what his father said he suddenly felt as though the man talking to him was not the father he knew his whole life, but a stranger.

It'd happened when his dad was still a student, studying abroad for one semester while he'd been at university. She was older and hadn't even known she had fallen pregnant until after he was back in the states. They'd kept in contact for a while, sending emails and letters with pictures and stories. Until it dwindled off…

And then out of nowhere a call he'd never expected to receive, a call explaining so much.

He'd seen recent photos of his half brother, his dad had even spoken to his son over the phone a couple of times. The low resolution images were enough for him to recognise the scrawny boy.

He looked tired, more so than a five hour jet lag could bring on. From what he was wearing you could tell he'd been living with his grandma, thought Alfred. The baggy oxford shirt and grey v-neck sweater, paired with turned up beige corduroy trousers weren't things you could imagine a regular nineteen year old dressing themselves in.

"Hi, I'm assuming this is Mr. Jones? I'm Arthur" the teen stuck his free hand out to the man. His other hand laid on a large battered suitcase.

His bright green eyes noticeably worried and lined with dark circles, almost hidden by his thick rimmed glasses and wild mop of dirty straw blonde hair.

"Yes, but you can call me Dad or Steve, if you want." ignoring the outstretched hand he threw an awkward hug around Arthur, one he didn't quite seem ready for, "and this is Alfred, your brother"


	2. Chapter 2

After quickly stuffing the case into the back of the car, they started the journey home. It seemed to take much longer than the two hours it should have. Perhaps it was because the Jones' always drove slower in the rain, but mostly it was the thick tension between the three.

There was of course no shortage of chatter, Mr Jones couldn't help having a nervous bout of verbal diarrhoea. This was a trait that Alfred usually shared, but both he and his new half brother both were totally dazed by the whole situation.

Arthur had been looking out of the window at the scenery flying past, the landscape here was so different from home. He wasn't sure if he had landed on a different planet, or drifted off into some strange dream and would soon wake up and be back in his granny's cottage just outside Oxford. Everything just seemed bigger, even the driveway to the house felt surreally huge.

* * *

He wheeled his case into the house following the lead of his new family. There was a small porch outside the house and a big garage, along with a big living room, kitchen dining room, two bedrooms, a box room and a study. The house was a bit of a mess, they had obviously been trying to turn the box room into a bedroom for Arthur leaving its contents strewn throughout the house.

"Yeah, sorry the place is kinda a tip at the moment. I'll make it up to you but I think until we can get some of these boxes cleared we'd be best having you on the bunk beds in Al's room." His dad looked fairly embarrassed about the mess.

"C'mon I'll show you in…" Alfred mumbled, nervously opening the door to his room.

He hadn't worked out how to speak to his brother yet. He'd always wanted a sibling, but he just felt like this guy was a stranger.

A stranger stood in his room, probably judging his Star Wars posters and comic book collection. He felt suddenly self conscious of his superman bed sheets and the glow in the dark stickers all over his ceiling.

"I, err, call dibs on the top bunk… if you're okay with that" Alfred called with a nervous laugh that broke some of the tension.

"Oh, of course. Shall I bring my suitcase in here or will it not be long until the room is finished?"

The british teen spoke so properly that Alfred didn't really know how to respond, he just found himself thinking how he did always find the accent funny on tv.

"BOYS! I'M GOING TO ORDER PIZZA"

Both of them were relieved by the shout and Alfred raced out of the room to choose toppings.

Arthur stood in the room a bit longer. He thought about the effort that they must have gone to for him, he felt ashamed of being a such a burden. He wanted to be easy for them, polite and kind. He wanted them to barely notice him being there.

The rest of the evening was spent eating pizza and avoiding stepping on eggshells with their small talk. Alfred made them all watch the second Guardians of the Galaxy in the evening.

Alfred got more nervous towards the night, would Arthur change in the room in front of him? They were brothers, he thought, but they'd also only just met. To his great relief when Arthur went to brush his teeth he came back wearing green tartan pajama bottoms and what looked like an old t-shirt. This reassurance he felt for a bit, as the worry crept up that his captain america pj's made him look immature.

* * *

Arthur was woken up the next morning by Alfred bounding out of bed to get ready for school. He could tell his presence was unwanted in the boys room so he moved downstairs in his pajamas to have a cup of tea. The strong smell of coffee and the gentle waft of hot toast with butter filled the kitchen.

"Morning Arthur, help yourself to coffee and toast. How'd you feel about us sorting your room out today?"

"Uh, Yes. Good Morning" The bright and earliness of their morning caught him off guard, he wasn't much of a morning person.

Once Arthur discovered there was only coffee to drink his outlook for mornings here turned a bit sour, but he tried to sound cheery in between the flurries of Alfred going to school.

The rest of the day was taken up by slowly moving boxes from the small room to the study and garage, followed by dragging in a small desk and chair. Steve had taken a while digging through some of the boxes while they were going, checking if any of it was things Arthur might want, like a desk lamp or picture frames. It couldn't help but to be noticed that a lot of the boxes seemed to contain personal effects, Arthur's mind wandered to the missing Mrs Jones.

Onces it had been excavated the room already contained a single bed, shelf and a chest of draws.

"There we go!" Steve huffed as he came back from moving the last box out to the garage. "I guess you'll want to unpack now and make yourself at home"

Arthur clunked his case into the room and opened it, there wasn't much in there. Some of his clothes, a couple of well worn books. It didn't take fifteen minutes to shove his clothes in the draws and stick the books on the shelf. He did take the time to slip a photo into the frame Mr Jones had given him. The room didn't look like it was his, it just looked like a guest room with a few of his things. Although, most of his things were gone anyway.

He returned back downstairs, surprising Mr Jones who expected it to take a lot longer. Maybe he didn't notice the comparatively small size of Arthur's suitcase, given that he was supposed to be making a permanent move.

* * *

Alfred, however, did notice. The first thing he wanted to see when he got back from school was the room free of boxes.

"Wow, it's so small and empty, didn't you bring any stuff?"

"Erm, well I couldn't bring a lot with me. Most of my things I think were sold or donated to charity" He thought of all the books and personal items he'd left behind, then of Alfred's room which was so full of stuff. He didn't think the kid was spoiled or anything, when he was younger he also had a lot more toys and games, he just felt a bit empty.

"Um, I have some old posters if you'd like… and we can change the bedsheets to something not so… err, brown"

Even if the best Alfred had to offer to his tastes was some plain navy bed sheets and a freebie poster from a magazine, he had to thank the kid for trying to cheer him up.

It was a long and slow first week living with his new family. There was something he felt about the way his father looked at him, eyes filled with pity. Alfred would leave for school every morning, take with him any semblance of warmth.

Steve seemed to be endlessly busy during the day making thousands of call and filling out paperwork. Arthur tried to find solace in reading, after all his books wouldn't ignore him.

He couldn't shake the feeling of displacement. Alfred sensed it too, the feeling of nervousness entering the house after the normality of his school day. No matter what they did Arthur didn't seem settled.

"Once you start school next week it'll start to feel more like home, it's just routine we're lacking," Steve smiled at the boys over dinner.

Alfred shovelled food into his mouth, concealing his grimace. Once Arthur started school it would be real, official. He'd have to tell his friends.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur felt like a small child being accompanied by his father into the expansive school grounds. He wasn't even sure why he had to be there. It had been years since he'd been on any official school grounds, although in a way that was part of the problem.

Steve finished signing the papers and nodded to his registration teacher, "See you later Arthur!"

His dad waved, before turning around and deserting him in the barren school building. Arthur wasn't exactly sure time flew when something was fun, but he was aware that the ten minute sign in with his father had taken years in his mind.

Professor Wang smiled at him as he turned down one of the long corridors keeping Arthur in tow. He seemed very youthful for a professor, through the few grey hairs running through his pony tale implied differently.

Scanning around the classroom, what struck out to him most was the red-eyed, clearly albino boy sat at the back of the classroom. Wang sat Arthur next to him, apparently he was also retaking the grade for medical reasons.

"So Arthur? You feel lucky, to be sat next to me, the awesome Gilbert?" The german accent was still surprisingly thick for someone who, as he would find out, had been living in the states for ten years.

Gilbert seemed to stick to Arthur, he learnt the other didn't really have any friends at school after skipping a year.

"Ja, it would have been pretty embarrassing, if I wasn't so awesome!"

He'd been explaining how he'd missed exams after getting such bad sunburn he ended up hospitalised. Apparently falling asleep in a deck chair in just your boxers isn't smart, especially when it's summer and you're albino.

Arthur could tell the next thing the Gilbert would ask was why he was repeating a year, and possibly why he moved to the states - a question he wasn't ready to answer. The Jones's hadn't even asked him about it, of course they knew but it was a hard thing to talk about.

Just as he was about to open his mouth they were dismissed for first class. Arthur joined the mass of pupils streaming down the corridors for their first class of the morning.

* * *

He couldn't avoid Gilbert for long, as he somehow managed to shove himself next to Arthur at lunch.

"Hey Artie," the sudden nickname made him grimace "How are you doing? Your first day going alright?"

"S'pose so."

"It sucks having to repeat the grade. Totally unawesome. I should be off at college getting drunk. Mein gott school is boring."

He didn't want to talk to Gilbert, but he couldn't seem to avoid him either. It didn't help that no-one else seemed interested in talking to him.

Eventually another boy arrived, hovering around the table like a wasp at a picnic.

"Hallo bruder, can I sit?" Arthur had to make a double take at the pair, the younger boy seemed far to good mannered to be any relation to this mad German.

"Ja, ja! Luddy, this is mein new awesome friend, Artie meet Luddy"

Friend? Arthur nearly blushed.

"P-Piss off, we're hardly friends" Arthur spat it out. He wasn't planning on getting particularly close to anyone here. All he wanted was to just finish school and move back to England for university.

Much to his surprise this didn't seem to put off his new companion in the slightest, in fact it seemed to spur him on.

* * *

The afternoon seemed to rush past in a gray haze. He found his feet on the stony pavement walking home with Alfred. They didn't speak to each other, although he could tell the younger kid was keen to talk to him.

Entering the house he realised that Mr Jones had gone back to work and was relieved to be able to go straight up stairs. He sat on the bed and stared at the framed photo, it showed a much younger Arthur with an older, smiling woman, who shared his bushy brows, almost all the people in the picture did. A hulking ginger man with a beard loomed over the others, with his arm around a skinnier teen version of himself with deeper red hair, next to a slightly shorter but more heavily built brunette. The only figure in the picture without the thick brows was a lithe red haired girl, who's freckle smattered face was grinning cheekily. They all did share one feature, bright emerald eyes.

Why didn't any of them want me? Arthur thought. I could still be over there, not here. What was the point. Spend one year here scrounging from the Dad he'd never met until he completed his last year of school to then bugger off and leave them. He couldn't see the point, why was this what she wanted for him.

"Hey Arthur, ermm, would you like, like to come play Mario cart with me?" Alfred didn't knock as he barged in, forcing him to catch his new big brother about to tear up.

The teen was sat on the bed with a cracked photo frame by his side. Alfred looked at the picture and recognised Arthur.

"Who are they?" He timidly asked,

"My family, not that they would care to admit it." He picked up the frame and pointed to the figures "My eldest brother, Allistor, then there's the twins Patrick and Saoirse, followed by Ieuan, you wouldn't believe it but he is the youngest, after me."

He didn't point at the last woman, but it was obvious that this was his mother.

"I didn't realise you had other brothers, and a sister" Said Alfred.

"Pretty much in name only. They can't be bothered with an arse like me"

Alfred was pretty shocked, never expecting the frumpy, formal brit to swear, especially in front of him.

He flapped his mouth open trying to say something comforting.

"You're gonna start catching flies like that." Arthur seemed to cheer himself up, "Alright, I'll play against you."

Alfred learned something new about his brother that night, he wasn't uptight and frumpy. He was a potty mouthed hot head, and a sore, sore loser.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur started to wonder if perhaps his Father had been right. After a week in school he had felt more relaxed. It gave him a break from keeping up the well mannered pretense he maintained for his dad. Though he was beginning to feel a sort of closeness or understanding with Alfred his younger brother seemed to ignore him whilst at school. Gilbert, the obnoxious german seemed to share about a 3rd of his classes, even German which just seemed like cheating for someone who spoke it as a first language.

"Hallo eyebrows, who ist your young friend?" The familiar voice hollered out,

"You, prick! Don't call me eyebrows. This is my little brother, Alfred"

Gilbert had caught them walking home from school on a friday night, finding out he had a younger brother was a surprise.

"Eh, Awesome you should have said he and Luddy can play together!"

"I already know Ludwig" Alfred announced "That's the dude Feli and Kiku hang out with, isn't he, like, two years older than me?"

"Eh, you're brother is american? I thought he'd be a Brit like you." For a moment he paused, possibly trying to evaluate the situation before quickly giving up, "Anyway Eyebrows, mein awesome friends are coming back from college this weekend, you must come party with us! I'll text you"

Before Arthur could answer Gilbert had rushed off on his bike. The two brothers were still for a moment as they digested the human storm who have just rushed past them.

I guess we don't seem much like brothers… do we? Thought Alfred, he wondered if Arthur would be going out with Gilbert at the weekend, he didn't know much about him. All he knew was that Ludwig's brother didn't exactly have a good reputation.

"Do we really not look like brothers?"

The question shocked Arthur, he stopped walking again and paused. Their relationship wasn't like the one he had with his older brothers, he didn't know what to say really.

He looked at Alfred, just a few paces ahead. Nervously rolling the gravel under his foot. His sandy blond hair, and big blue eyes framed by glasses. The two probably did look fairly alike. Alfred had a more muscular build, but their faces did have some familiarity.

"Don't worry about what Gilbert said. That prick has very little sense and a huge mouth. I guess I'm not the brother you might want, but you're pretty much stuck with me for another year at least."

They both carried back on home, not sure what to think about what the other one said.

* * *

"Are you gonna go?" Alfred finally asked, as they entered the house. He immediately slung his school bag down in the hallway, kicking off his grubby sneakers. Arthur didn't seem to hear him. Occasionally, Alfred had noticed, Arthur would disappear into his thoughts. He walked straight past into the kitchen, mindlessly putting the kettle on.

"Fancy a cuppa?" Arthur announced to the empty kitchen.

"A what? I asked you if you were gonna go?" Alfred's voice raised and this time Arthur apparently heard him. His eyes snapped from the kettle to look at him, widened and confused.

"Go where?" Surely he hadn't completely forgotten.

"Go with him. Beilschmidt. He's no good you know, everyone says."

His lip twitched with irritation, "Well, I guess I just don't listen then."

Presumably that meant yes, in British.

Shrugging Alfred left the room, allowing Arthur to continue the ritual of making his tea. Quietly, Arthur wondered to himself what kind of bad reputation Gilbert had. Apart from being comically egotistical and annoying he seemed fairly harmless.

What surprised him most was Alfred's concern for him over the matter. As lively as he was Alfred at heart was a good kid, he seemed to be well behaved at school and fairly popular.

* * *

He was still sat at the table nursing a second mug of tea when Steve came home from work. A few pages of discarded homework laid out beside him in an effort to seem as if he was busy. He couldn't even remember why he'd bothered to take trigonometry.

He felt the need to pretend he was working as his dad rummaged around in the kitchen. Apart from the initial hello they both acted as if the other one wasn't there. Arthur felt bad for him, after all he accepted the responsibility of a 19 year old son that he'd never met before with little complaint.

"Can I offer you a hand?" He remained polite, his voice stopping Steve in his tracks.

"It's just frozen pizza," he stated as if it actually answered the question. Talking to him Arthur quickly noted was a mistake as his father seem to take it's as an invitation to sit down.

Painfully the man began to work some of Arthur's homework issues to him. An event that seemed to take up the entire evening post dinner. Clearly maths was one of Steve's fortes. As expected really, he knew the man was an architect. Unfortunately Arthur didn't seem to have received any mathematical ability from his father. He fucking hated triangles.


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur was picked up by Gilbert the next day to be practically dragged across town to meet his friends. There had followed a pretty unconventional route, crossing gardens and hopping fences, but the time they arrived Arthur felt as though he wouldn't have managed to return home even if he wanted too.

"Ah, mon ami, you didn't tell us you're new friends was so cute." The frenchman lounged on a brick wall at the park, his long blonde hair swept back into a ponytail, he blue eyes fluttered in flirtatious manner.

Arthur could feel his nose scrunch up in disgust. "Ergh, I should have know a frog could swim across the pond"

The other, calmly smiling brunette laughed.

They were introduced to him as Francis and Antonio, both had left for colleges last year sans Gilbert due to his medical confinement. He learnt that their families had all moved from Europe to America all within a few years of each other when they were children, cementing their supposed lifelong friendship.

Twisting the long blades of grass around his fingers and pulling at them, Arthur felt nervous around such close friends. As if with perfect timing to break the tension Gilbert suddenly shouted

"BEER! I almost forgot!"

Gilbert pulled a couple of cans out of his backpack and passed them around.

"It feels good to finally have a drink. Twenty-one's too bloody long to wait for" Arthur complained.

The four of them cheered to that. It grew dark and the four were sat looking at the stars, talk had turned to romance.

"I still can't believe she left me" Gilbert was sobbing, having already gone over how 'un-awesome' it was.

"But isn't her new guy, Roderich, totally loaded or something?" Mused Antonio, "Hey, what about you Arthur? Any special senorita's in your life?"

"Actually, I'm err…" ...Gay? He finished the sentence in his head but couldn't get the words out. What would they make of it? He hadn't really been fully open with it at all in the past, and even if he had who knows what their response should be.

"I think monsieur Arthur here may actually, ahem, bat for the other team? As you may say?"

He didn't deny it. I mean, he'd hit the nail on the head, the frog was surprisingly astute. As Arthur tried to gauge their reaction he felt his palms start to get sweaty.

Gilbert's red eyes widened, "Really?"

Arthur wished he could sink down into the dirt and become a worm. He couldn't face the oncoming insults and rejection. Had they always known and just brought him here just to bully him? Beat him up?

Then Gilbert spoke again, "Maybe you could give some pointers to Luddy. He has had a crush on this cute guy for ages now but doesn't know how to ask him out."

The relief washed over him, although he still couldn't relax his body. Was it really that simple?

"Mon Frère. You should really take up my offer. I've been offering for years to teach him the French art of seduction."

The irritation of Francis's suggestion luckily overruled any thoughts making Arthur nervous. "Yeah, sure. As if Gilbert wants his brother to become like a frog." He snarled back.

Antonio and Gilbert burst out laughing. He felt accepted, even by Francis who was now trying to defend himself despite being red in the face.

Somehow sat on the grass with Gilbert and his friends Arthur hadn't even noticed that it had become so late. They had all just about burnt out when he lit up his phone screen to see the numbers displayed 03:43.

"Shit. Shit fucking bollocks."

He hadn't told them. Alfred and his dad had been out at a high school football match when Gilbert came to pick him up. He tried to stand up but hadn't realised how drunk he was. The blood and alcohol rushed through him as little black dots swarmed his eyes. As he felt himself collapsing onto the damp grass and dirt he couldn't hear the muffled concerned voices of his new friends.

* * *

Nausea woke him the next morning. Looking around in unfamiliar surroundings he felt a heavy weight on top of him. Face pushed down into a bare mattress he could just move his head enough to work out that he appeared to be in the messiest room he had ever seen.

He started to panic as he felt his gut churning. Arms and legs were wrapping around him, he couldn't escape. He needed to go, he could sense what was coming.

"Mm, Elizabeta" he heard Gilbert's voice and his sleepy face eyes unopened leaning towards his.

'Oh no' was the only thing he had time to think as Gilbert's lips came closer to his and then the inevitable started to happen.

Gilbert's still sleeping lips pushed against Arthur, who lips parted slightly. It had been rising up inside him. He couldn't control it.

Arthur opened his mouth and threw up.

Gilbert's eyes opened.

"Mein Gott." He lifted himself off Arthur. They had both been reasonably blasted in vomit. It stank. The smells of beer, bile and regret.

Before either one could say anything to the other he watched the colour of Arthur's skin pale and match the green of his eyes. Quickly he grabbed his hand and hurtled down the corridor to the bathroom. Just as Arthur was about to be sick again his head was shoved into the sink.

"Damn, should have aimed for the toilet. This is going to be a nightmare to clean up." Gilbert mumbled as he peeled off his ruined clothes and jumped into the shower. Once he was clean himself pulled on a pair of boxers and stripped Arthur down to drag his dead weight into the shower cubicle.

* * *

A cold jet of water was what finally jolted him to full alertness. Arthur looked down and saw he was wearing nothing but underwear. Adjusting to his surroundings he started to stand up, then noticing the red eyes staring at him.

"You're awake now right? Clean yourself up and I'll bring you some clothes" Gilbert said getting up from where he was sat on the toilet seat.

Feeling refreshed but deeply guilty Arthur did as he was told.

Once he was out of the shower he found a pair of shorts and a t-shirt waiting for him.

"The clothes are all in the machine. Not sure what I'll do about my bed though, not even sure febreeze is up for that job." Gilbert laughed, as Arthur reentered the bedroom.

"Not sure anyone will notice given the state of the rest of this place" Arthur smirked "but I'm happy to scrub it for you."

"Hey watch it eyebrows. This is mein AWESOME room."

Arthur got to work scrubbing the mattress with some rags and soap while Gilbert fussed around trying to organise some of the chaos.

"Will your parents mind?" Gilbert paused with his fussing, it only seemed to be making the mess worse somehow. He turned and looked at Arthur, the slightly scrawny blond sat on the bed holding a wet and grubby rag.

"Ah, shit. I didn't even tell Mr…. my father." Arthur dropped the cloth onto the bed and stared at the wet patch on the mattress. He wondered if they be angry at him. Alfred and Mr Jones, he supposed the likelihood of it was about the same of as this mattress ever not smelling faintly of sick again. "What about your family?"

"Nah, they're not even here anyway. Besides, how could anyone be angry at me?" Gilbert grinned "I'm far too awesome."

Then almost simultaneously both of their stomach growled as if a hungry stray dog had entered the room.

"As much as I enjoyed you feeding me like a baby bird… would you fancy some breakfast?"

Arthur immediately went red in the face, now remembering clearly how they had woken up that morning.

Gilbert surprised Arthur with his neat and efficient method of cooking. Soon they both had a plate of bratwurst, eggs, bacon and toast. The smells had drawn Ludwig down from his sleep.

"Bruder? Warum bist du so früh?" The bleary eyes Ludwig hadn't even noticed Arthur's presence.

"English please Luddy, we have a guest." Turning to Arthur he explained that they mostly speak in German at home.

The young teenager suddenly aware of his pyjama clad state sharpened his gaze.

"Uh, But it's only 6am… good morning Arthur…"

"Morning" was his grumbled reply. Arthur at the time was too busy looking at his phone. He had been expecting to find a few missed calls or texts. To his relief there was only one message. Alfred had sent him one early afternoon, reading:

Tld dad u r with ur friends. Mite b bk l8.

So he might not be able to write but he sure saved me from bollocking he thought, if he was here; "I could kiss him"

The last part of which stopped the brothers bickering about early mornings and the proper way to wash a frying pan and both turned to fix their gaze on Arthur who hadn't realised his thoughts had verbalised.

"Kiss who? Do you like my Bruder?" Ludwig asked bluntly.

He was lucky that Gilbert laughed it off. Announcing that he wouldn't be surprised if anyone wanted to kiss him, after all he was so totally handsome. It was a relief for Arthur to spend his morning away from some of the building tension he felt at Mr Jones house.

"Ah no, sorry- My little brother, he uhh, covered for me - to our father. I just meant it like an expression you know? Because I'm thankful. To him, you know, for helping me." Arthur realised his flustered backtracking was making the situation worse, but he was being pulled in by a vortex of his own embarrassment like bath water after the plug is pulled.

 **AN: Thanks to German Girl's review we have the corrected German from Ludwig (he's asking why they're up so early)**


	6. Chapter 6

Riding back across town on the back of Gilbert's bike felt good. The cool Sunday morning air hitting his face seemed to lift his hangover, however slightly. Although that might have just been the headache tablets finally kicking in.

"Thanks for the ride mate." Arthur called after Gilbert as he headed to the front door.

He dug in his jean pocket for a minute finding the house key. He wished it had taken a bit longer to find the key. He fingers fumbles nervously as he tried to slide it into the lock.

"Hello?" Stepping through the front door, he couldn't find a trace of any of the Joneses. Creeping through to the sitting room he found Alfred slouched on the sofa reading a comic. His usually neat hair mused and bed heady, especially that particular strand in the centre that never seemed to sit just right.

"Good Morning" He grumbled "Dads still sleeping"

"Ah, thanks for telling him I was out. I didn't realise I'd be so late"

All he got in a response was a grunt. Arthur headed back towards his bedroom.

He stayed there most morning, rereading some of his favourite verses from The lord of the Rings, when he received a flurry of texts. The sharp vibrations tugged him away from middle earth much to his dismay.

He looked at the bright screen and saw Gilbert, Francis and Antonio had taken it upon themselves to add him to a group chat. The chat was whizzing by at a rate he couldn't have caught up with even if had wanted to bother. Sighing to himself he muted the conversation.

* * *

Just as he was about to settle down to read again he heard the tapping on the door. He knew it would be his dad. Alfred had never knocked.

"Good to see you back in one piece" Steven Jones entered the room, Arthur noticed now how much Alfred must have taken from the man. He was of an athletic, although now slightly aged build. Sandy blonde hair, he also possessed the characteristic cowlick Alfred sported. He although he lacked his sons vivid blue eyes.

"Yes. I'm very sorry I didn't tell you personally that I was going. I hope it didn't cause you any trouble?" It was hard keeping up his polite facade with an angry hangover buzzing through his skull like a jackhammer.

"No trouble, at least you told Alfred. It's good to know you're settling in and making friends." There was a robotic pleasantry to the conversation. As if Steve had just come to the room because it was something he knew he was supposed to do, rather than something he actually needed or wanted to do.

"Told you, didn't I," Alfred appeared shortly after his dad left. It was as if he'd come just to cheerfully gloat over Arthur's sorry state. Yeah, alright, Arthur supposed he had the forewarning of Gilbert's poor reputation from the boy. From the perspective of a mere fourteen year old spending the night out without permission possibly did seem like a big deal.

"So what did you do?" His bright blue eyes glinting behind his heavy frames.

"Nothing much really, just hanging out. Then I slept over at Gilbert's when it got late," he was unsure about trusting Alfred with the drinking part. Held yet to find out their fathers stance on alcohol, but he could assume it wouldn't be so lenient.

"Really? Like you didn't play games or anything?" Alfred looked a little disappointed, his innocence was very cute from Arthur's perspective. Though he may have had physical appearance of a typical high school jock he was an enormous nerd. Arthur could see very clearly that Alfred's idea of a great sleepover was one where you stayed up all night eating snacks and playing video games.

"Nah, but I will need to work out how to repay you," Alfred fidgeted where he stood in the doorway, looking into Arthur's room.

"Well," he glanced at the picture frame of Arthur's family on the table, "That frame… was there like, a picture already in it?"

Arthur lifted up the frame from the desk, "Not really that I remember."

The glass clip frame was heavy in his hands and he undid the fiddly clasps. Dismantling it completely this time he noticed the second photo, stuck behind a thin piece of card taped over the backing. For a second he looked at the image, it was a young woman with long dark hair and familiar dark eyes. Alfred grabbed it out of Arthur's lap and left.

For a moment he considered following and asking about the woman in the picture, but he was sure just as much as he had things he didn't want to share his younger brother did too.


	7. Chapter 7

Arriving in class far to early the first thing Arthur noticed when he sat in the classroom was the absence of a certain annoying albino. It should have made the morning lessons a lot easier with nobody to laugh and kick him under the desk just to distract him. Somehow even without Gilbert there Arthur was despondent and inattentive anyway.

As his lessons dragged into break and Arthur ventured out around the school grounds finding what looked like an excellent tree to doze under for a little while. He felt the slightly damp earth with his hands, before collapsing down onto his jacket. Heavy lidded eyes lowered to rest as he attempted to ignore what distinctly sounded like somebody calling his name.

Not moments after he settled his mind was drawn to attention as a small airborne projectile in the form of a shoe hit the tree above him. Opening one eye he saw Francis Bonnefoy stood, smirking, on the other side of the school fence.

"You better bring that back, amore. They're expensive."

Arthur chucked back it over to him, not before bending it and putting stress marks on the Italian leather. It was met across the fence with a vague look of distaste.

"I'm guessing you don't check your phone? Gilbert is skipping today while I'm still in town. Come join us."

Arthur looked back at the boring grey school building and then towards the fence. He spent a full three seconds contemplating his options before crawling over the wire mesh to the flamboyantly dressed man. As he lifted his leg over the height of the fence the worn jeans snagged on the metal he felt them tear at the knee.

"Shit" he landed with a soft thud on the concrete pavement, bending down to examine the rip and scraped flesh.

"Oh ho, amore. We do rather look the pauper and the prince." Arthur would bitterly admit to himself that he could see what Francis meant. His silky long blonde hair was neatly tied in ponytail, wrapping around him like an expensive scarf. He looked annoyingly good in just a royal blue trench coat with dark skinny jeans. In contrast Arthur looked as though he had spent a week sleeping rough.

Seeing Arthur's nose wrinkle as he judged himself, Francis felt the need to correct his own opinion.

"Mmm, I suppose on you, there is a slightly - shall we say sexy? - ruffian look to the whole... thing." He couldn't hide the fact he found Arthur attractive.

"Hearing that from a frog like you just makes me sick" his sharp response just made Francis more tempted, as though he were a cat toying with a lively mouse.

"Come on then frog. I don't want to miss more than one lesson."

* * *

The two met with Gilbert at the same park they been drinking in a few nights before. It was hardly recognisable to him in the day. Antonio had gone back to college the day before, but Francis didn't have any classes all week.

"I'm sure you'll both be delighted to see me around" Francis flicked his hair over his shoulder for a feigned dramatic effect.

What an obnoxious laugh Arthur noted. It matched him well. They passed a smoke between themselves.

"Froggy, you missed out on not coming to stay with Arthur on Saturday," Gilbert smirked as he winked at Arthur, pseudo flirtation heavy in his voice, "we showered together the next morning, you should see some of Artie's hot tattoos."

"Oh, a man with ink? How tantalising."

Arthur blushed, realising how much of his body Gilbert must have seen. "They're nothing special really…"

Most of them were stick and poke home jobs. His prized piece was a flaming 6 string guitar on the side of his ribs. The only profession tattoo he had, due to the placement it hurt like a bitch getting done.

Somehow he ended up showing Francis one - with great persuasion from Gilbert. A simple quote etched into the skin, just above the line of his belt; "So comes snow after fire, and even dragons have their ending!" The Hobbit, J. R. R. Tolkien.

"So what does is mean then?" Francis squinted at the wobbly lettering, his hot breath spreading over Arthur's exposed skin.

"Nothing," Arthur replied, a little too sharply, pulling the shirt back down. It was a sort of memorial tattoo, for his mother. Not that he'd want to talk to that bastard frog about it. She'd read the Hobbit to him as a child, it'd had remained one of his favourites. In a way he supposed he saw Bilbo's own waxing and waiting adventurous spirit as an allegory for his mother's own journey.

He gestured to Gilbert to pass the last drag to him, desperate to draw away the attention from himself, "So are you really not going to lessons Gilbert?"

"Nein, it's like, I already did them and I'm so totally awesome that I remember everything."

"Mmm… I missed too much, I can't afford to fuck it all up again." Arthur mused,

"Mon ami, can I ask you why you're repeating a grade?"

Before he could reply the hot smokey air caught in his throat, bursting into a coughing fit. The end of the finished roll up burned his fingers, wincing Arthur dropped it to the damp grass. The question had taken him off guard, this relaxed atmosphere had been deceiving him.

"Can I just say family problems for now and get back to you on that?" He started chewing his lip out of nerves. "Anyway, I should probably go back. I don't want to miss English lit."

He picked himself up, stamping out any remaining ember of the butt, and started making his way back across the park hearing Gilberts calls of nerd behind him. Francis watched him walk off silently wondering what land mine he may have accidentally stepped on.

Arthur reentered the school with caution, hoping the pungent smell of smoke had been knocked out of his clothes. He was relieved to make it to his English lit class on time, if only just. Some of the class members gave him a shaded look, possibly noticing the bloody tear on his knee or spacey look in his eyes. Thankfully he garnered himself no attention from the teacher.


	8. Chapter 8

Arthur reentered the school with caution, hoping the pungent smell of smoke had been knocked out of his clothes. He was relieved to make it to his English lit class on time, if only just. Some of the class members gave him a shaded look, possibly noticing the bloody tear on his knee or spacey look in his eyes. Thankfully he garnered himself no attention from his teachers as the day drawled on.

Unspoken, Francis's question sat calmly lingering in his mind, he could still feel the acrid smoke in his lungs. He kept avoiding talking about it. Mr Jones must have known already, somewhere along the process of him moving here he would have been told. Had he told Alfred? Probably not, he doubted the kid would treat him the same if he knew. Arthur didn't even treat himself the same after that.

* * *

The house was silent, it was late but he couldn't sleep. He felt suffocated in their home, the nicey nice home atmosphere had been becoming unbearable. Arthur ventured out into the hallway. Not bothering to tie his laces as he pulled his shoes on and slipped out the front door. The cool night air was bitter but calming, he almost considered turning back for a coat but reluctantly hugged himself tighter into his jumper and started to walk.

Heading off aimlessly under the eerie yellow glow of the streetlights Arthur felt like he could get lost easily in this neighborhood. All the houses just looked the same to him. Whether it was pure muscle memory or due to some subconscious desire he found himself outside the park where he and Gilbert often hung out... The park where he first met Francis.

He slumped onto a wet bench. It had been raining hard and his felt the moisture soak straight through his jeans to his arse.

His phone started to vibrate in his jacket pocket. After fumbling with his cold fingers for a minute he pulled it out, it was Gilbert's number. Debating for a second he decided to answer.

"'Ello" There was no immediate reply, he just heard background noises, it sounded like someone shouting. "Hello?"

"Ah! Finally. Do you not even check your phone?" The French lilt gave it away immediately as being Francis.

"Fuck off you frog," He had half the mind to hang up the call right then

"Now now. No need to be so rude, amore," hearing that made Arthur's eyebrow twitch, but he could now hear the distinctly German sounding shouting in the background.

"Is that Gil? What the fuck is he doing?"

Whatever it was Francis was trying to say to him got cut of by some drunk idiot stumbling around in the park shouting out loudly.

"Can you say that again, I can't hear you over some drunken arse" Arthur was about to go and yell at the drunkard to shut up when he noticed them.

Francis, dragging an incredibly drunk Gilbert along with him, phone tucked under his chin. Gilbert was struggling to drag his feet along through the dirt but somehow through his beer goggles he recognised him.

"Hey! LOOK! Franshish. Is eyebrows. HEY EYEBROWS"

Francis dumbfounded as the scrawny looking Brit sauntered over. The boney fist connected with the soft cheek of Gilbert's face. His body slacked and slumped down Francis's shoulder and in shock he let go. He landed with a soft thump unconscious in the soft soil.

"I hate being called eyebrows."

Still in slight shock, Francis watched Arthur heft an arm around his shoulder, pulling the body up from the ground. "Don't bother help me with this then."

He hooked the other limp arm around his neck and tried to share the load. Arthur was a lot stronger than he looked, noticing now under the yellow haze that his body was built of a lean muscle.

Arthur was aware of the gaze Francis lay over him. He caught the others cerulean blue eyes by surprise. He felt a strong mix of disgust and longing.

"Did you really have to knock him out, les sourcils." He hoped the Brit wouldn't pick up on his thinly disguised tormenting tone.

"Oh come on. I didn't punch him that hard. The arse passed out all on his own. How did he even get so utterly shit-faced in the first place."

"It's a long story."

"You gave him alcohol?"

"Oui." Francis laughed. It was a grating sound, hammering against Arthur's eardrums. He stretched the fingers on his free hand and leaned across, considering giving him a black eye.

Seeing Arthur lean towards him, Francis couldn't betray what he wanted. He used his free hand to steady the target and planted his lips neatly on the others.

The kiss was breathy and rough. The force nearly knocked off his glasses. Arthur didn't know why he leant into it. His clenched first softly landed against the coarse wool of Francis's coat. Fingers spreading out across his chest as they explored each other's tongues.

He remained all too aware of Gilbert's presence between them, it sank down in the pit of his stomach. He felt disgusted by himself, but he couldn't pull away. There was a small voice inside of him that called out that he needed this.

The moment was cut short by an abrupt and strange "kesesese" noise coming from Gilbert.

"Shit." Arthur said as he pulled back "he's not choking is he?"

Francis shoved their friend onto Arthur.

"Well he is your problem now. Au revoir," He'd tried to hide it but he was upset at Arthur pulling away from their kiss. As he walked away his cheeks flushed hot and embarrassed.

* * *

Gilbert opened his eyes. Sitting up straight away his forehead caught on something hard.

"Fuck!"

Gilbert turned cradling his forehead to see Arthur. The impact had caused him to bite his lip, his teeth were stained slightly red as he spoke. "Finally waking up now you git?"

"Why does my face hurt so much?" He realised that it wasn't just his forehead but his whole left side.

"You fell as you passed out"

Then he remembered, Arthur had punched him after he called him eyebrows.

"Lying isn't an awesome personality trait there Artie"

Arthur twitched his mouth into a cruel smile.

"Oh so you remember that you deserved it then? Perhaps you can tell me why you got yourself so absolutely plastered?"

"Ah," As he spoke he turned his red eyes up to the dim stars beyond the streetlights, "My ex-called me. Liz and I, we've been friends since we were kids so y'know it doesn't feel totally weird to still talk."

Arthur just made a general hum of agreement. He felt a pang of jealousy over the close friends Gil had, nobody had ever stuck around that long for him.

"She complained about her boyfriend. He's a pretty insensitive, stuck up guy. I guess I sort of see the appeal but at the same time, Liz is too good for him."

Arthur tensed up hearing Gilbert talk about his ex. He wanted to reach out and comfort him, but his hands lay unresponsive at his sides.

"I think she wants to get back together with me"

"That's good, I guess," he paused, nearly consciously, to signify his indifference "Will you get back with her then?"

The other boy didn't respond, instead focusing his gaze on something far in the distance.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

He turned to look at Arthur directly, his blood red eyes showed a slight melancholia.

"I haven't even told Toni or Francis," he chuckled, "I never really felt right with Liz, I mean she's totally great don't get me wrong. I just felt like I was dating my own Bruder or something."

Arthur didn't know what to say. He clenched and unclenched his fists a few times until the expanse of their silence became oddly comfortable. The crown of silvery white hair lay back onto Arthur's lap, eyes looking straight up to the stars.

"It's your turn now you know." Gilbert eventually spoke, his tone was playful but Arthur took it seriously. "Tell me a secret"

"Gil, I don't think anyone wants me here"

The scarlet eyes flickered from the sky to look up at Arthur. "What do you mean?"

"I'm pretty much the child of a one night stand. After my mum died, well I got shipped off here. None of my family in the UK wanted me, so now my dad is stuck with me. He probably regrets not using a fucking condom." Arthur let out a derivative snort. It actually felt kinda good to get it out.

"Well. Shit."

"Yeah"


	9. Chapter 9

After spending the night helping Gilbert sober up in the park Arthur returned home in early hours of the morning.

The sun was just about to rise as he pushed open his bedroom window from the inside. He had one leg still outside when he heard the door to his room being gently pushed ajar.

To his many thanks he saw Alfred, the younger boy looked sleepily at him.

"You're not running away are you?" His orange Cheeto stained fingers gripped around the door.

"Nah, I'm actually just coming back mate." Arthur replied softly as he pulled his other denim clad leg through the window gently, avoiding making too much noise. "What did you want"

"Err, a errr, phone charger!" He proclaimed loudly, then stopped himself returning to a soft whisper.

Arthur placed the charger in Alfred's orange crusted hand. As the door was closing he whispered after him "Please, don't tell Steve, okay?"

"A hero never betrays their friends."

Arthur crashed out as soon as he hit the pillow on his bed.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Gilbert hadn't been back at school the next morning.

"It's barely edible isn't it." He wasn't sure who has spoken to him at first.

Arthur pushed the food around on his plate. Fork scraping through mounds of mashed potatoes with what they called a beef stew. The surrounding sounds of the lunch hall dulled by his conflicted thoughts.

"Not even hungry really" he replied looking up to have his gaze met by a set of brown eyes. He hadn't even noticed the table had become occupied by others part from himself. Ludwig, Gilbert's younger brother was easily recognisable at the end of the table, sat with two brown haired boys, both very similar looking so he supposed brothers. The older looking of the two was the one he'd spoken too.

"Making new friends Lovi?" The younger of the pair energetically joined in, "You're Gilbert's friend right?"

"You could say that, I guess" Arthur was grumbling. How had he managed to not even notice he'd sat at such a crowded table. He glanced down the bench making surprising eye contact with a more reserved looking kid of about Alfred's age.

He felt the uncomfortable tickle in his nose too late and suddenly sneezed over his lunch.

"Disgusting!" The one called 'Lovi' announced. The small but sturdy teen tried to make a quick exit but in his revolt ended up crashing into Gilbert, spilling gravy and beef chunks over the floor. Leaving the mess there with he stormed off. Arthur chuckled, someone with a worse temper than himself.

"Hey Artie!" Gilbert immediately replacing the boys presence across from him at the table.

"You're looking a bit better," that was a lie, Gilbert looked awful. Arthur doubted he'd even washed since last night as he was clearly wearing the same clothes. He was also now sporting a large shiner over his right eye.

"Ja, I'm feeling awesome," The display just now had been enough to lift his mood. Looking across at Gilbert he couldn't help notice a small slug of gravy running through Gilbert's platinum hair. Without thinking he reached across and wiped it away with his thumb. A slight red flush ran across his pale cheeks. "So, what happened to Francis last night? He just up and disappeared?"

Arthur bit his lip, the sudden kiss came into his mind. What demon had possessed him to let that happen he wondered. Desperation? He hadn't realised it until now, but in that moment he completely lost himself to his loneliness.

Gilbert patted his head across the table, "Eyebrows, ist anybody home?"

"Stop calling me that or I'll blacken your other eye too," Arthur snapped at him, almost automatically hearing the hated nickname.

The remaining trio at the other end of the table all raised their heads to look at him. Gilbert was grinning hard, it looked unpleasant with his swollen eye. The reddish pupils gleamed as he spoke, "I'm not such an easy target sober."

"Whatever," Arthur dropped his fork onto the plate in defeat.

* * *

Technically, Alfred thought, he and Arthur were no more related genetically than him and his cousin Matthew. Their dad's were identical twins, so from his junior high level biology plus google he estimated they shared about the same quantity of DNA.

He watched his half-brother walking ahead of him, unsure now whether or not attempt catching up.

Alfred had avoided Arthur that morning. He couldn't get the image of Arthur climbing through the window out of his mind. Beside him his friends chatted waiting for their buses. One of the Italian twins, Lovino, was making some weird display out of tripping over Gilbert at lunch.

"Who the hell are ya staring at Al?" His friend Tony somehow managed to get the words out between wolfing down his lunch.

"Arthur." He'd noticed Gilbert's face was distorted with bruising, he hoped Arthur hadn't be with him last night.

"Who?" Alfred raised his eyebrow at Tony pointedly, "yeah, right. You're half-something-limey brother. Fuck that guy."

If only it was that easy, you can't exactly forget about someone you live with, he thought.

"I did not realise you were brothers," he was interrupted by Ludwig. He somehow hadn't noticed the looming German amongst the group. "I'm happy Bruder has a friend now."

He didn't mention the feeling wasn't mutual. After all he was fairly sure Gilbert's presence was what prevented Arthur from socialising further in the school. It had been hard not to notice the wide berth most students seemed to give him in the hallways.


	10. Chapter 10

It took a few days for Arthur's cold to fully pass and a few weeks on top of that to blast the memory of ever kissing Francis out of his brain. He found himself falling into a nice routine, hanging out with Gilbert on the weekends drinking and smoking, making his presence as minimal as possible for the Joneses.

Heading back home from school with Al was also a part of that routine. Although today it was slightly different.

"So this is Tony and Kiku, they're my best pals! And this is Arthur, my new older brother"

"Hello Arthur, we have already met." The young Asian boy shook his hand, Arthur did vaguely remember him as someone who occasionally acted as a satellite to Ludwig and his friends. It was the other of Alfred's companions that concerned him. The one he'd gestured to as Tony just looked like he was going to be a huge annoyance. Slightly overweight with a close buzz cut hairstyle he stood out mostly because of his loudmouth.

"Limey bastard" was the closest thing to a greeting he got from that one.

His friends all headed to Alfred's room the instant they passed the front door anyway, leaving Arthur sat alone in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil.

"Hey Arthur, can I have a word with you?" He hadn't been expecting Steve to be home from work so early.

"Err, yeah. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Mr Jones sat down at the counter and paused as the stove top kettle whistled it's sharp 'screee'. He watched Arthur make his tea cautiously, as if carefully planning what to say next.

"First, I want you to know that I trust you. Otherwise I wouldn't be asking. I realise you've only really been with us a couple of months," The man paused, re-adjusting himself to face Arthur. If he were a dog, Arthur's ears would have pricked up. Suddenly he was concerned as to where this was going.

"I really do feel like I'm settling here though, Mr- Steve. Alfred and I are getting along well too." His grip tightened on the mug handle, the skin on his knuckles stung slightly from being pressed against the hot ceramic.

"Yes. Exactly!" Mr Jones face washed with relief, "that's why I was going to ask how you feel, if I had to go away for work. I'll understand if you want to say no, of course, but my firm have offered me a business trip. It's just for meeting with some new clients and a partner company, but I'd be away, roughly a week I suppose? It's just that I'd need you to look after Al."

Arthur slowly nodded as he loosened his grip on the mug. Lifting it to his lips he allowed the hot liquid to spread a fine steam across his glasses. It actually felt kind of nice to be needed, that he was able to be of some use to his new found family. "Yeah, sure. I mean I'll be here anyway so it'll be no problem."

He allowed his father to take over in the kitchen, retreating back to his room. He looked at the cup on tea sat on the small desk in the plain room. To him it looked desperately lonely. He longed for the time when he lived in a small council house in Greater London. It would be the summer holidays and all his brother would be home. Someone would announce they were putting the kettle on and people would creep out of the living room with their stained mugs for another brew. Usually arguing with the order of milk and tea into cup, all uniting against Saoirse that the tea bag should never be added directly to cold milk.

He flicked his phone open to the muted messaging app. The little red icon flashed '17 unread messages'. Some were from so-called friends back in England, people he knew would eventually forget about him all together. After all him moving to America was only a temporary excitement for them.

He scrolled past those messages to see one he wished he'd hadn't. Francis Bonnefoy. The small text preview just started with "About that kiss". He scrolled back up.

Shit. I have to get that frog out of my head somehow. Arthur pushed open the small window and stuck is head out. It was on the first floor but due to the foundations it was still a slight drop down to the grassy lawn.

He slipped back into the kitchen much later to grab a slice of pizza. The cheese on top had already hardened in an mildly unpleasant rubbery fashion. He could hear Al and his friends getting their pyjamas on upstairs, obviously deciding to turn their sleep over into an all night gaming fest. Chucking the rest of the chewed pizza slice in the bin he snuck outside.

Fumbling in his coat pocket he found what he was looking for, a squashed cigarette and lighter. Taking a few strikes of the flint Arthur lit up. He dragged a few heavy breaths of the smoke. It was never something he'd done often but it somehow never failed to soothe his nerves whenever tea seemed to be failing.

It was another one of those things, things he wasn't proud to admit of himself. Imagining his brain as a giant filing cabinet he would categorised Francis in the same section. That small moment off affection, it had been more valuable to him in the moment than his own pride. Arthur felt broken and unloved. These things, smoking, alcohol and sex, they could all be used temporarily to heal himself.


	11. Chapter 11

The sun was already past its peak when he woke.

He cautiously headed downstairs in his pyjama bottoms along with the slightly ratty black tee he'd worn the previous day.

"Finally acting like a teenager, eh?" Steve laughed when see saw the bleary eyed Arthur enter the kitchen. "Don't worry, Kiku and Tony have already gone home"

He poured some left over water from the kettle into a mug. Making tea first thing was an important element to actually waking up for Arthur.

"Ah, sorry. It was boiled a while ago."

He could already tell from the way the tea bag refused to produce much flavour.

Sitting down at the table he felt the necessity to attempt light conversation with his father.

"So it looks like I'll be leaving tomorrow. I know I didn't say yesterday, but they called me last night and it can't wait." His father looked apologetically across to him.

Lukewarm tea ran down Arthur's arm like piss as the shock caused him to loosen his grip.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sorry kid. I didn't mean to land it all on ya. Alfred already knows."

* * *

Arthur trudged through to the sitting room cradling the poorly made drink, his t-shirt still damp. Throwing himself down onto the sofa, disturbing the boy sat diligently doing his homework.

"Still here then"

"Looks like it" He glanced across at Alfred's messy handwriting. His fingers stained slightly black from a leaking ballpoint pen. From the look of it the issue was some sort of algebraic formula, black scribbles littered the pages from small mistakes.

Arthur took a small sip of the remaining tasteless tea.

From where he sat on the sofa he would see out to into the cold autumnal abyss. In the UK he'd never much seen a need for raking leaves but a thick blanket of red and orange now smothered the lawn around the house.

The house he'd grown up in didn't have even a small garden, it was just a grey concrete slab squashed into a cramped estate. His mother lined the window sills with plants, beautiful flowers that smiled out over the kitchen sink. They long since withered and died, after all there had been no one to look after them.

The peaceful silence they shared, occasionally interrupted by their father hastily packing upstairs, fell about until the afternoon.

Arthur eventually moved himself to infront of his computer screen hoping to work on some writing assignments. He fingers rested lifelessly atop the keys. The words had piled up over the screen but every time he'd tried read them over none of it would make sense. Sentences started, drifted off and only to returned with an entirely separate point. In his mind, however, he was solely focused on the tightening knot he felt in his stomach. He slammed the lid shut.

Raged boiled over him as if it were the hot water in an unattended pot. Somebody needed to lift the lid and release it, but Arthur couldn't bring himself. He knew his emotions just had to be abandoned and suppressed, the was no point to causing a issues in a situation that was only temporary.

He rested his forehead against the plastic surface of the table. It was slightly warm from the heat of the laptop. After a moment he rolled his head to the side, small wisps of messy hair stuck to the plastic with static tension. The bright led screen of his phone lit up the table as he checked his messages.

Only then did Arthur notice it had started growing dark.

To his slight surprise he found no new messages, not from Gilbert or Francis.

He typed out his thoughts into a long message, not with any particular intention to send it. The rhythmic typing just acted as a cathartic exercise.

 _"Maybe when you write it all down, it helps you to process what's happened?"_ The soft voice rang gently in his ear. If he was thinking about that, then he knew he was near the edge.

For a second his finger hovered over the send button, a dark smile stretched across his face. What would happen if he let it all out? If he let go of all the pieces of himself he'd painfully held together.

"Arthur! Food!" Alfred called from the door, banging it harshly as he crashed past. The suddenly noisiness caused him to drop the phone, it's touch screen slipping out of his fingers and grazing his cheek on it's way to the desk.

He abandoned it where it landed, after all he could delete it later.

"I thought it would be nice if we all had a proper family dinner," Steve grinned.

The kitchen table had been cleared and set, it wasn't fancy but it was kind of nice. Arthur shrugged as he sat down.

The large crock pot contained some kind of stew, it had a good sweet smell.

"It, er, looks good," Arthur could make out some kind of beans and sausages in the mix, "What is it?"

"Baked bean casserole, it's Al's favourite," Steve scooped a gigantic portion out onto a bowl already brimming with mashed potato, "Actually, second favourite to hamburgers"

The plate was a daunting challenge, he'd didn't know if it would be possible to finish it or even how to start. Alfred had already dug in. It was good, maybe a little too sweet and the mash a little overly buttery for his own taste.

"It's, mmm, really good dad," Alfred, somehow managing to speak through his mouthfuls.

"How about you Arthur? Do ya like it?"

He paused, "Yes, thank you."

"I'm glad. Hadn't had much of a chance to cook since you've been here, sorry 'bout that," Arthur just nodded politely in response, "Actually I thought we could take this time to talk about me being away."

Ah, here it comes, he thought, the ulterior motive.

"I trust you both, don't be stupid and wreck the house. I'm leaving some money for food but please try not just to eat take out," Steve gave Alfred a pointed look, "I'm sorry to be leaving this one with you. He can be a handful."

"Not funny dad, Artie and I are good!" Alfred huffed gently, but turned to smile at Arthur.

"It all sounds fair to me," he paused, "Steve."

Maybe it wouldn't be quite so bad after all. He scooped another mouthful of the casserole into his mouth, it was a little like how he was finding life with the Jones'; a little overpowering at first but great once you were used to it.

* * *

Returning upstairs Arthur re-read the message still displaying on the screen of his phone.

Dear Family,

Fuck you all.

Feel free to fuck me and my life and my plans over as you wish.

I'm so fucking sick and tired of just being used, pushed around and abandoned. The single person in my life who actually gave a flying fuck is dead. You, my delightful worthless brothers, shipped me off halfway around the fucking globe to get rid of me. I bet you're all enjoying your carefree lives now that I'm out of the picture. All whilst I have to sit around like a rancid stain in my own Father's little family. Who wouldn't want to find out that the dad who abandoned them has another son that they love and cherish. It least here I am useful, if only as a babysitter.

You all like to sit on your goddamn bloody high horses, I wish I could drag you all down into the dirt to fester with me you miserable arses.

Is there much point in living such a worthless life as this? I think not.

Yours bloody sincerely,

Arthur Kirkland.

Perhaps he should change his surname. That would surely sever his ties with that god awful lot. Smirking he held down the backspace key.


	12. Chapter 12

"Don't forget about leftovers from last night, and remember if anything happens you can call me," Steve pulled the pair into an uncomfortable hug before getting into the car.

Arthur and Alfred watched and waved as he pulled out of the dive and the car. Once it had disappeared into the distance they silently returned to the house.

Alfred returned upstairs, leaving Arthur alone. He found himself cradling a cup of tea, watching the plastic kitchen clocks unforgiving display of 7:30am. The house seemed strangely devoid of life so early.

* * *

Alfred wondered whether he should have felt surprised when he arrived downstairs to find his brother asleep at the kitchen table. He was still in his pajamas, next to him sat a half empty mug of tea.

It still felt strange to have another person in the house, especially since Arthur seemed to be trying his hardest to not have a presence.

He would mostly stay in his room, or disappear off with his friends. Alfred wrinkled his nose, Gilbert Beilschmidt had a bad reputation for being a reckless hooligan, despite his very well mannered brother.

Alfred reached up into the cupboard and grabbed the box of overly sugary chocolate cereal that was his current favourite. Surprisingly Arthur didn't wake up as he clattered about making cereal. Alfred knew he'd never been particularly quiet, and he hadn't been making much of a effort to be so. He had actually been hoping that Arthur would wake up so that he would at least have someone to talk too.

He brought his bowl into the living room. Switching the tv onto the first cartoon channel he found, maybe it would seem embarrassing to be watching cartoons at his age but he just loved them, Kiku had recently introduced him to Japanese anime as well which was already becoming a big thing for him.

Lounging across the sofa he shovelled his mammoth bowl of cereal into his mouth. The chocolate pieces had reached optimum milk absorption, still crunchy without becoming dry and pasty in his mouth.

When he first heard the ringing he assumed it was from the tv but quickly came to realise it was somewhere in the house. Dumping his bowl onto the coffee table he searched, not his mobile or the landline.

It was distinctly coming from the old box room. Alfred pushed the door open, he was just going in to collect Arthur's phone he reassured himself. Entering the room he saw the phone angrily vibrating on Arthur's bed.

What if it rings out before he can get it to Arthur? He picked it up and swiped to answer.

"Hello?" Alfred replied nervously, leaving the room.

"Hid's aboot time you answered," The gruff voice boomed from the other end of the line.

"Who is this?"

There was a pause on the other line while Alfred hovered outside the kitchen door. How was he going to wake Arthur up?

"Yer no Arthur. Dinnae tell me I got the wrong number…"

"No, this is his phone. He is just sleeping right now. I could wake him for ya?"

"Jus put the phone by his ear…" there was a slightly evil laugh on the other end of the phone. Alfred placed the phone next to Arthur's ear, after a second or two he heard some loud static shouting. Arthur's body jerked up, wide eyed he looked at Alfred, holding out the offending phone.

"Phones for you," Alfred dumped it on the table and returned to his cereal. It was starting to get mushy in the bowl.

He could hear the shouting from the kitchen, even as he turned up the sound of the tv. What the heck was their problem?

* * *

"WAKE UP YA LAZY BASTARD!" Arthur jolted up to attention from the verbal assault. For a second, the voice, the accent, it put him back in England. Looking up at Alfred dragged him back to his American reality.

"Phones for you," the small electronic device clattered to the table.

Cautiously, he picked it up, as if it may bite him. He didn't notice Alfred leave the room as he put it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Awake noo, Sleepin' beauty?" He hadn't been wrong about that voice. Allistor.

"What do you want?" He growled into the phone.

"Can a man noo jus speak ta his wee brither nooadays? Actually hids aboot tha stonkin email yiv sent us."

"What email?" Arthur couldn't tell he was raising his voice as he spat the words out, the less he spoke to this bastard the better.

"Tha one you sent yesterday. Am no kidding aboot Art, wur worried fer ya. Talking aboot no wantin tae live an all tha, feeling yiv been abandoned an' such."

Arthur's blood ran like ice in his veins as it drained from his face. He didn't. He deleted it. Nobody was supposed to see that.

Arthur's fear was melted away by his rage, "Don't start pretending like you care now!"

It was always the same. Acting as if they're concerned but really just cementing their own belief that his feelings as less valid. "I know you can't even face me, why else would you chose to have me travel half the way around the world.

"Is that really wit you think?" However distorted by the long distance he could hear the slight warble to Allistor's voice, it was as if he was actually hurt. "Ye hiv nae idea wit it's bin like fae us."

"Maybe I don't, but strangely enough I just don't care anymore." As he gripped the phone tighter in his sweaty palms, Arthur noticed his hands trembling.

"Listen, yer no the only yin still grievin' over mam. Don't be so selfish to think hids all aboot yersel."

Selfish? He was the selfish one now? He felt a breaking point in his mind.

Next thing he knew he was staring at the small broken shards of plastic on the kitchen floor that had previously resembled a phone.

* * *

Arthur laughed nervously as he started to collect the broken pieces of his mobile. Alfred stood in the doorway, unsure of what exactly had happened. There was something terrifying about the unhinged look in Arthur's eyes. Alfred was frozen in place, an intangible force from his gut told him not to interfere. Only moving to allow Arthur to leave into the confine of his room.

He hadn't really thought much about Arthur's life from before, all he knew is what his dad had told him. Arthur was moving to the states because his mother had died and didn't have family to stay with in England. It seemed to have been his mother's request that sent him here. Who'd been the man on the phone, one of Arthur's brothers?

* * *

When Arthur finally returned downstairs he looked tired and hollow, there was a redness around his eyes which made it seem as though he had been crying. Alfred didn't dare ask him about it, he just silently watched as Arthur brought the pot of leftovers and stuck it in the oven.

He fiddled with the dials the increasing exasperation he felt becoming apparent as he slammed the door shut. "Do you know how to work this blasted thing?"

Alfred chuckled lightly, sometimes Arthur would say things so british he almost seemed like he'd fallen out of an old film.

"Yeah, sure lemme show you," He felt slightly proud to be able to show Arthur something he could do.

He crouched down by the oven for a moment, setting the dial to 356f. Then he remembered that most Europeans used celsius, perhaps that was the issue?

"Oh, so that's how you work it," Arthur mumbled as he watched what was happening with an expression of mild amazement. "Sorry about that, I'm rather more used to gas ovens…"

They found themselves both strangely sat in front of the oven, watching the crockpot bubble. A low gurgle escaped from Alfred's stomach, he scuffed his feet over the floor in an attempt to conceal the noise. Evidently it didn't work as Arthur turned to look at him, "Right then, I guess we'd better get some bowls."

Together they set about laying the table, it was a basic version just using bowls and spoons. Alfred pulled a cheap white loaf out of the cupboard and began buttering a few slices each. The slightly sweet flavour of American bread was still a slightly disturbing concept for Arthur, though he wouldn't mention it to his Father or brother.

He wrapped his hands in the slightly damp dishcloth hung over the oven door. If Arthur had realised how heavy the pot was going to seem coming out of the oven he wouldn't have bothered. The moist fabric slipped under the weight and he gritted his teeth together as his thumb landed against the side of the hot dish.

He slammed the pot directly down onto the table. Slopping the remaining casserole into two bowls he made an attempt to hide his scalded thumb.

Seemingly Alfred didn't notice as he grabbed his bowl and headed to the living room. After a few seconds of listening to Sunday night tv blaring out he held his hand under the cold tap. Not bothering to wait the full five minutes he returned to eat at the table.

He watched the skin as he bubbled up and blistered.

Sat at the table alone he found that the food tasted odd, not the same comforting taste it had when he shared it with Al and Steve.

After what felt like hours of chewing, although the clock seemed to suggest it was only 20 minutes, Arthur finished his food. He dumped the bowl by the sink along with the other cookware. For a few minutes he made some movements as if he might wash up, but eventually gave up. The earlier phone call had taken its toll on him.

He could tell from his hoarse throat that he must have lost it and shouted at his idiot brother.


	13. Chapter 13

"Hey Artie," Alfred called him from sofa, "what'sit like, y'know, like, in England"

Arthur swiveled his body around in the armchair. It was as if the boy was reading his mind. He tried to pull up thoughts about where he grew up, on the outskirts of London, his granny's house in Oxford. "Some of it is beautiful. The countryside is so lovely..."

He trailed off there, it hadn't been lovely for him for a long time. When he had been a child he life was filled with happiness, playing with his brothers and sisters. Baking cakes with his mum, no one had ever made a better Victoria sponge. Just thinking about it he could almost taste the sweet vanilla and raspberry jam.

Alfred wasn't sure how to break the silence that he knew he'd somehow turned dark.

"I was about a year younger than you" Arthur suddenly spoke again "She wasn't really sick at first, or at least she was good at hiding it. You know how adults can be, but eventually she just seemed to... break down, slowly. My brothers and sister all went to live with their dads, and I got passed between my Grandma's and Allistors... He's 10 years older than me. We never really got along all that well." Arthur couldn't work out which part inside him had broke, but suddenly it was all there at the surface.

Alfred was still sat, wide eyed on the couch. Before his lips managed to part in reply Arthur stood up from the sofa, nearly bowing down to excuse himself "Err, sorry for dumping all that on you, you probably just wanted to know what the weather was like."

Swiftly he headed for the door, shoving his bare feet straight into the trainers dumped in the hall.

* * *

Alfred heard the door slam shut. He felt slightly shell shocked sat on the couch. It's not like Arthur is the only one here who has lost his mom, Alfred thought bitterly.

He stared at the TV for a moment, but the show it blared out no longer held any interest for him.

Was this the kind of thing Dad had warned him to call about? The clock on his phone told him that it was 7pm, his dad would have finished the drive by now. Eventually he made the resolve to call if Arthur didn't return before midnight.

* * *

Shit, I'm not actually about to cry am I? Arthur thought as he could feel the cool evening air sting at his eyes as he stepped out the door.

He wandered around the streets aimlessly as he tried to clear his head. Dull yellow street lights lighting a path past the suburban houses. The bare skin of his feet rubbed against the damp fabric of his shoes.

Nothing could keep his mind clear of the past.

Images of his mother's fragile body, almost too sick to know he was there rose up from the shadows of his memory. Harsh voices filled his ears in the empty streets. You're not the only one who is suffering. Don't be such a fucking burden. It's not like I want to look after you.

He was so focused on his own thoughts he almost didn't notice the bright headlights heading straight towards him. The tires screeched to a stop and the driver jumped out.

"Arthur? What are you doing. It's pouring with rain! You'll get pneumonia!"

Huh? Arthur looked up at the sky and was slammed back to reality as he was dragged into the car. He hadn't noticed when it had started to rain, but sat on the dry car seat he realised how wet and cold his body was. He turned around expecting the driver to be Mr Jones somehow, not Francis Bonnefoy.

The car engine groaned to a start, at first Arthur thought he would be taking him home but then Francis of course had never been there. He appreciated the drive, watching the street lights distort under the sheets of rain pouring down the car window. He also appreciated Francis's silence. Perhaps the he just didn't know what to say to him, Arthur surely wouldn't. Eventually the car stopped, Arthur stared for a moment at the dashboard, the blinking digital display read 21:35. He tugged his phone out of his pocket emotionlessly and sent his brother a text; gone out for a walk, just waiting out the rain with a friend.

"Where were you going? Have you eaten?" Francis broke the silence that had shared. With it the final dam Arthur had broke. His tears joined the patter of the rain on the windshield.

"I don't know" he said

Francis leaned over the gap between the car seats and pulled Arthur's mouth to his. Francis's lips were full and soft, his own rough cracked lips must have felt horrible. The kiss wasn't quite passionate but comforting, desperate and slightly salty from his tears. Arthur pulled away, knowing his face displayed a pure, bitter shock.

"I've eaten… we had leftovers."

Francis withdrew back to the driver's seat and Arthur directed them to his house. He didn't turn back to look at Francis as he entered. Francis, in turn, didn't wait for Arthur to enter the house before he drove off.

 **AN: So I did it, re-edited and rewrote massive parts of the story. The most major thing I can think of if you don't want to re-read sections is that I moved this section, where Francis finds Arthur to after Mr. Jones goes on his trip. Making the kiss they share while Gilbert is drunk their first kiss. There are quite a few other sections I've added in providing more of Alfred POV. Fingers crossed this doesn't cause anyone to loose interest!**


	14. Chapter 14

The next morning Arthur woke up aching all over. He rolled himself out of bed and crawled over to turn off his alarm. It took every ounce of effort he had to pull on some clothes and make his way down stairs.

He reached the kitchen and slumped down on a chair, cradling a warm mug of tea - black with honey and lemon.

"You, err, don't look so good." Alfred chipped in noisily whilst eating a pop tart for breakfast.

Arthur knew he looked about as 'good' as a microwaveable omelette. His eyes were red and puffy and his skin taken on a sallow, waxy tone. Choosing to ignore Alfred he sipped his tea. The warmth of the liquid brought a bit of life back into his throat.

The topic of last night clung to the tips of their tongues but remained unmentioned.

By the time Arthur had arrived home Alfred had fallen asleep on the settee. It had relieved him to not have to explain himself, he wasn't even sure how he could.

Sorry, I just had a minor mental break down and needed to bugger-off for some self deprecation and snogging, just didn't have the right ring to it.

From across the kitchen table Alfred could see Arthur muttering to himself inaudibly. As angry as he was with him, he couldn't bring himself to say anything to Arthur. Not in the state he was in.

How couldn't admit to himself that he knew his brother was at the edge of some kind of breaking point. Their Dad hadn't noticed, otherwise Alfred was sure he wouldn't have been put in this position. It didn't feel fair. To either of them. Weren't adults supposed to step in and fix these things?

"So, err, were you with Gilbert then?" Arthur looked at him bewildered. "I mean you said you were hanging out with a friend."

"Right, yes. No someone else."

"Who?"

"Err," it was an innocent enough question, yet Arthur's face was more flushed that a freshman swirly, "I don't think you'll know them."

"Oh, so like, what did you do?"

"N-nothing really."

"Oh, cool…" At this point he felt he was almost literally backing Arthur into a corner.

They were only skirting around the issue, both of them could feel it hanging over them like a noose.

Awkwardly slipping out of his chair Alfred grabbed his bag. Maybe it was a little early to go to school, but he couldn't face the tension at the breakfast table any longer.

"Um, I'll see you later? I'm going in early to meet Tony."

"Oh, right. Well, Bye"

Arthur called after him, even though the kid was already practically out of the door. He let out sigh of relief. Without even saying much he had started to feel nauseous thinking about the previous night.

By the time he finished his tea and made himself slightly more presentable for school he realised he was going to be late.

* * *

"You're looking pretty unawesome this morning."

"Oh really? I feel absolutely fan-fucking-tastic" Arthur rolled his eyes that last thing he needed right now was an obnoxious arse badgering him. Thankfully Professor Wang seemed to be too busy talking about Chinese involvement in WW2 to notice the lack of attention being paid to his class.

"Ja, fantastically crap. What happened to y-" he was cut of by a wheezing cough from Arthur.

"Fucking frog germs…" he mumbled under his breath, although apparently not quiet enough for Gilbert not not hear.

"Frog? Have you seen Francis?" Gilbert looked puzzled.

Arthur mind flashed back to the front seat of Francis's car. The smell of rain and leather seats, the Frenchman's cologne adding a hint of lilac. The taste of salty tears and saliva as their lips touched.

"Ah, yeah. I saw him last night…"

"Ach, He was going to meet me and Toni and never showed up!" Arthur raised a large eyebrow to this, "We did invite you, you just never check your phone."

"Sure," Actually, it was pretty true he hated these devices.

"Ja, so what happened with you and Francis?"

In an attempt to ignore Gilbert, Arthur stuck his hand up in the air attracting the attention of Professor Wang.

"Yes, Arthur? Can you tell us the common name of geopolitical tensions between allied forces after the Second World War that contributed to a lack of acknowledgement for Chinese contributions in the war effort? Aru."

Shit, should have been paying more attention. "I, err, sorry Professor, I don't know."

Several students seated ahead of him snickered, apparently that was an easy question. Judging by his teachers exasperated expression, like a man having to deal with an idiotic younger sibling, he had been far more aware of their lack of attention that he let on.

"The answer would The Cold War. Perhaps you and your friend Gilbert would like to come back during lunch to catch up on this?"

"Yes sir," they chimed, with the aid of a sharp kick to Gilbert's shins.

Scuffing his shoes lightly against the linoleum tiled floor Arthur stood outside Professor Wang's classroom. No sign of Gilbert yet, but he half expected him to not show at all.

He paused the door ajar, to hear Wang beckon him inside. As he let the door slide shut a pale head of hair could be seen darting down the corridor at high speed. Panting, he joined Arthur in the classroom.

"Today has not been the first time I have see you talking over my classes, that and I can see you both have made a record of skipping lessons and tardiness. Do you want me to have to call your parents in?"

Shrugging, Gilbert pulled a face that seemed to read something akin to 'it's not like they'd care'. Arthur bit his lip, hoping this wouldn't make it back to his Father. There was no need to bother the man with his well being anymore than necessary.

"My Father is out of town at the moment."

Red eyes lit up at the statement, Professor Wang pretended to ignore him and continued, "That may be the case, aru, but I can still contact him and set up a meeting. Is that what you really want?"

"No," he grumbled bitterly.

"Good. Then I'll leave this as just a warning. Next time you will have a detention. I hope to see your papers on the Second World War achieve no less than a B grade."

With a renewed sense of enthusiasm Gilbert used his hand to forcefully nod his and Arthur's head in unison. Quickly shuffling them both out of the classroom.

Once they were clear of the hallways, stood in the grey shade of the buildings exterior he turned, grinning to face him. "Eyebrows, why did you not say your parents are out of town?"

"Obviously because I don't want you and your idiocy to wreck my house." Arthur almost wanted to roll his eyes at his friends eager expression.

"Nein! My awesomeness needs to check your place out. Besides you still owe me. I've never been to your place."

"No."

"Ja. I'll only invite Toni and Frani since they're in town."

"Then, it's definitely no. Besides I want to go get some lunch."

The albinos arm stretched past him, eyes pleading. "Bitte."

"Still, no."

"I'll let you go if you agree?"

"Fine. But no Francis or Antonio."

He pushed his way past, heading to the depressing canteen, Gilbert followed still arguing.

"Gott Eyebrows. You can't just invite me."

As much as he tried to ignore it, the incessant whining was wearing him down. Sighing as he entered the que to fetch yet another depressingly bad canteen meal, tater tots and some kind of unidentifiable meat claiming to be beef.

"Come on Arthur, you know you'd have an awesome time!"

"Fine," after all what was the worst that could happen? "Absolutely no alcohol though. None."

 **AN: I can't believe I'm at chapter 14 already! Please let me know what you think so far, I feel like within the next few chapters I'll be wrapping the story up though I won't reveal how. Thank you for your support, feel free to share any suggestions, criticism (especially after I've made so many changes).**


	15. Chapter 15

Pulling open the kitchen cupboard for possibly the sixth time, Arthur found himself confronted with the suspicious blue cardboard box. Surely it couldn't be that difficult. He picked it up and began to study the instructions; boil water, cook pasta, add milk, margarine and cheese sauce powder, mix. Easy.

"What's for dinner Artie?" Alfred caught him off guard eyeing the packet, "Hey! Is that Kraft? Mattie, um, my cousin, loves that stuff."

"Er, right. I thought it might be simple enough to make." He tore open the packaging, setting a pot on to boil. "I don't usually cook much…"

That was a bit of a lie, he used to have to cook for himself a lot. The results were… varied. On a good day he could manage to cook a fairly decent korma, but those 'good days' seemed to occur approximately once in a month of sundays.

"S'all right." Alfred sat at the table, pulling out his phone.

Arthur felt a little uncomfortable having an audience as he waited for the pot to boil. He could tell that since last night, no - since that phone call, or possibly even before that. Alfred was uncomfortable around him. No longer brash and childlike, he tiptoed around Arthur as though he were a delicate house of cards. Waiting for a gentle breeze to knock them down.

Alfred stole furtive glances from his phone to observe Arthur. Though now he did nothing of interest. Just scrunching his nose and examining the macaroni and sauce sachet. He fired off a text to Tony, keeping a log of his actions. It was kind of enjoyable in a weird way, a bit like a police stakeout. Afterall you most certainly cannot arrest a criminal without any evidence.

If something was up with his brother, Alfred would play super detective and find out.

Suddenly noticing the pot on the stove bubble over, he called out startling Arthur. Hot water spilling out and burning on the electric ring. His brother, in a blind panic emptied the bag of macaroni into the pot. Splashing hot water over himself.

"Fuck fuck fucking bollocking shit-fuck." Quickly stripping off his shirt, Arthur stuck his arms under the cold tap. Displaying a matching pair of red welts forming over the skin.

Though he couldn't quite make it out under the scalded flesh, Alfred thought he saw something not dissimilar to scaring. That couldn't mean- there were plenty of way to receive a scar. Alfred too, had scars of his own.

"Uhh, Al. Could you turn the ring down?"

For a second he paused, frozen to the spot.

"Right. Yeah, I'm on it," standing slowly, he navigated past the large spillage of water. Despite his best efforts to avoid it he felt the water soak through his socks as he turned the ring to a low heat.

"Guess I can see why you don't cook much…" he turned to look at Arthur, stifling a smile. The two boys made eye contact, standing in the soaked kitchen. First it began nervously, with a giggle from Alfred, but soon they found themselves both in hysterics.

"Yeah. I was banned from the kitchen at home." Arthur finally managed to speak between the laughter. His arms had started to feel numb and ache under the cold water. He pulled them out to investigate the pasta, grabbing a spare fork from the dishrack. It took a little effort but he managed to spear a small piece to try. Chewy, and a little over cooked. Perfect, he rolled his eyes.

"Alfred, can you pass me a colander?"

He left the pasta to drain in the sink, picking up the sopping shirt from the floor. He squeezed a few droplets of water out of the long sleeves. He pulled the damp fabric back over his head. It now hung, stretched and heavy over his hands. Discreetly he tried to check the marks on his arms. Alfred must have seen.

But then, he didn't say anything.

With Alfred's assistance he mixed the sauce for the pasta, it was a little lumpy but overall edible.

"It's not great is it." Arthur grimaced, his visible disappointment over the meal surprised Alfred.

"It's alright. Y'know, if you chew real quick and swallow it fast." He couldn't resist poking his tongue out, "Mac and cheese used to be my favourite."

"Hope I haven't ruined it for you. Besides, I thought that was burgers."

Alfred shrugged across the table. Conveniently stuffing his face with a few more mouthfuls to avoid the conversation. Not that Arthur was particularly pushing him to say any more.

"It was my favourite when I was real little. Mom used to make it, she made the best… I don't remember so good what she looked like, but I still remember the taste."

"Yeah, I sort of get that."

Alfred looked at him puzzled. There was an irking of irritation, at least you got to know your mother. At least you had your chances to say goodbye. At least you have your siblings to talk to about, instead of a father who hid every essence of her. He took in a sharp breath of air. Don't be so childish, this isn't some sick competition he reminded himself.

"Er, do you want to talk about her? You can just tell me to shut up if it bothers you. I haven't heard anything about her…"

Alfred didn't look at him for a while, watching his spoon sink deep into the macaroni. Arthur continued eating through the silence. Mushing the pasta into a thick, hard to swallow paste with his teeth.

"Dad doesn't like to talk about her." His eyes remained glued to the plate as he spoke. "He blames himself, I think. It… it was an accident. Slippery tires in the rain. I was only six…"

"What was she like?" Arthur asked, sensing that he wanted to open up more.

Alfred dashed upstairs, returning minutes later with a familiar photo. So it had been his mum. The youthful woman in the photograph smiled back at him, it was remarkably similar to Alfred's own smile. She shared Alfred's stunning blue eyes.

"Mom's name was Winona. I remember she used to sing to me."

Arthur nodded. It was an all too similar but different pain to his own.


	16. Chapter 16

He looked at Tony sat working away at the next desk. His own motivation had been lacking recently, and the fact he hated economics didn't help.

He was thinking about his mother again. Secretly he was jealous of Arthur. Perhaps he was wrong about it being down to guilt, maybe his dad did it so that they wouldn't miss her so much. Either way he couldn't help but feel as if he has his chances of knowing his mom had been stolen from him.

Then he thought about Arthur. His brother. It felt strange to even think it still. Just a few months ago had they past each other on the street he would have had no idea. The word alone gave him too much attachment. He wondered how long Arthur would even be in his life. In just a few months he would graduate, was he going to study, leave home and find work? He hadn't spoken about it at all. At least not that he knew of. Would they have money to support him if he wanted to go to university?

"Alfred. Are you coming or not? We got gym." Tony surprised him, he looked up from his textbook to notice most of the class were already on their way out. He pushed the books from the table roughly into his backpack. Chatting away about his new favorite game, roughly two paces ahead of him he followed Tony to gym.

"...so that's why you always gotta go HAM on the grenades." He realised he hadn't even been listening, what game was he even talking about

"Tony. What do you think about Arthur."

Without missing a beat his friend replied, "He's a limey bastard."

Maybe he couldn't talk to Tony so easily about this. He was his best friend, but they rarely had heart to hearts. The closest they seemed to get was Tony describing his latest crushes and how badly he wanted to… Alfred blushed at the thought.

"Actually, second thoughts on Gym. I feel a little sick. I'm gonna go to nurses."

* * *

Saying he was sick wasn't exactly a lie, he felt unwell. Just not in the physical sense. He dashed off down the corridor. Reaching the nurses office, he found it empty. If he was lucky, with Gym being his last period of the day he could hide out until the end of the day. Time seemed to pass slowly as he stared at the display of leaflets and flyers dog eared and pinned to the wall. He had a flick through a few to pass the time, STD prevention and safe sex, how to check for various different cancers. By the time the bell rang he'd noticed only one of particular interest, 'dealing with grief'. The tack dropped to the floor as he pulled it off the board, shoving it roughly into his bag.

Ignoring his group of friends waiting for their respective buses he headed straight for Arthur through the crowd of students. A particularly animated Albino bounced around him as he walked through the gates. It had been a while since they'd intentionally walked back together, but he was surprised to see Gilbert with him.

"Hey Arthur, wait up!" The blonde man's vivid green eyes flashed towards him. Alfred picked up his own pace to catch up with the pair, who seemed to be bickering.

"Hallo Alfie!" A taunting grin stretched across Gilbert's pale skin.

Ignoring him he turned to look at his brother, "Should walk home together?"

"If I say no what will you do? Stay here? Walk a meter behind me?" Arthur rolled his eyes, continuing to walk.

Alfred kept up to his pace, unspeaking. He couldn't tell if he had somehow made the man angry at him or if this was just his usually grumpy temperament. Occasionally stealing a glance across he couldn't read the expression behind the thick furrowed brows.

"Mein Gott, someone say something. The awesome me is getting bored." For whatever reason the irritating German was following them. At least Alfred was fairly sure that this wasn't usually the way he went home.

"Er, Arthur. Why is he walking with us?"

Arthur didn't reply, he only shook his head. Massaging his forehead with his fingers. The pair of them combined was enough to give him a headache. As his younger brother waited he quickly glanced away towards his self-proclaimed 'awesome best friend'.

"You didn't tell him!" The idiot feigned shock, putting on a dramatic display of pointing at him and covering his mouth. He could only question why he spent time with this person. The pairs of blue and red eyes bore into him as they waited for his response.

"Of course I didn't tell him. I was hoping you'd forget all about it." He let out an exasperated sigh.

"Ja, well I didn't!" Gilbert smiled smugly, "Frani and Toni will be by later as well."

"How bloody brilliant."

Alfred felt a little lost in the middle, so Arthur was having friends around? Arthur had more than one friend? He had heard vaguely of Francis and Antonio before from Ludwig and Kiku in the years above. As a freshman he'd never met the two, but they were fairly infamous. There was a nickname, something like the bad time team…

He picked at a loose thread in the hem of his batman tee. You gotta play it cool, he told himself. Not wanting to embarrass himself in front of his brothers friends. Afterall, he'd only just got over the nicknames and bullying from elementary school now as a high school freshman. So what if he had been a little chubby. He didn't need his high school years ruined by the fact he was a tattletale nerd for his big brother.

A little uncomfortably he continued his journey home. Trying to focus on the mostly boring scenery of suburban housing. He kicked a pile of leaves by the curb, sending them scattering into the street. Holiday season was approaching soon. Would Arthur be the type to go trick or treating or Halloween parties?

They reached the front door of the house, he left Arthur making a cup of tea in the kitchen with Gilbert and slipped upstairs to his room. He planned to stay out of the way and focus on his homework. He could still hear the German near shouting downstairs and he pulled the bedroom door shut.

* * *

Heading straight for the kitchen Arthur stuck the kettle on the stove. There was nothing his missed more than English electric kettle. Waiting for water to boil when he needed a cup of tea this badly was painful. He noticed that Alfred had snuck away and left him alone with Gilbert. He felt guilty for not telling his brother about the European invasion he'd be facing. But how was he supposed to know that they were serious? It had been year since he'd ever invited anyone to come to his house after school. Honestly it felt a deeply childish concept to him.

"Wau. Ist really the all American home." Gilbert looked around the house. Arthur hand's really thought about it before but it truly was. Down to the front porch and white picket fence.

"Well they are pretty much your average American family," he responded dully, watching the kettle with eager eyes.

"Ja. So, what are you doing here being Mr. UberBrit."

"Cheers, someone pointing out how out of place I am. Just what I needed mate."

"Das Leben ist kein Ponyhof." The albino nodded his head in affirmation. Even with taking German he didn't understand what his friend said, something about horses? He was just good at memorising certain phrases for exams. He honestly didn't remember what most of them meant.

"When are Francis and Antonio getting here then?"

Gilbert tapped his phone screen a few times before replying, "Francis is insisting he cooks so he'll be here soon has he's been shopping. Toni…"

He was cut off by the whistle of the kettle as it finally boiled. No longer caring to listen to the rest of the sentence as he leapt from his chair to make the anticipated beverage.

"Sorry, do you want something to drink?"

"Beer." Came the flat reply.

"No beer," he almost could have slapped him. Did he not explicitly say no alcohol.

"Anyway, show me around your place."

Arthur took a large scalding gulp of tea, and relented to tour Gilbert around the house. Who seemed as uninterested in the tour as he felt giving it. Until he reached his bedroom. Gilbert immediately threw himself onto the bed making himself all too comfortable.

"Wau. It's so small and empty. I'm surprised it's so neat." There was certain knowing glint to his eyes. As if he'd already sussed how chaotic he usually was. It was unusual for him to manage to keep a room so relatively tidy, he supposed it was mostly due to the lack of personal things he had brought. He missed some of it, mostly his guitar.

"As if you're one to talk. I've seen the state you live in."

"Ja. It's such a mess. I just keep it that way to piss dear Mutter and Vater off." His raspy laugh slipped out darkly, "The awesome me is usually so much more organised."

Arthur was unsure whether or not he believed him. It wasn't the most outrageous thing he'd ever heard the man say. Once Gilbert had claimed he descended from Prussian royalty. Just as he was about to interject, he was cut off by the sound of tires crushing gravel.

 **AN: Ah, so many chapters. When I started writing this I had no idea how long it was going to be. This chapter wasn't exactly the most exciting... I hope people stick around until the end it's not far off. I predict a few more chapters. I really feel like I'll need to go back and re-edit the whole thing again once it's finished. If you're still around and reading this drop a review and let me know what you think!**


	17. Chapter 17

"It's probably Francis."

Arthur left the room, squinting down the corridor at the humanoid shape behind the distorted security glass. He could make out the blue eyes and blonde hair already, so he knew Gilbert was right. But he hesitated to open it.

The figure persisted on banging on the glass, he could hear muffled French curses coming out from behind it.

A slightly shorter blonde pushed past him down narrow hallway. Opening the door to reveal Francis and Antonio a pace behind him.

"Ou are you?"

"Alfred. And this is my house so it should really be me asking that." The young teen crossed his arms defiantly, only to be ignored by the frenchman.

"Francis Bonnefoy, it's a pleasure to meet you." He extended a courteous pat on the head to Alfred while eyeing the other man down the hall. "Arthur! I can see you hiding down there." The Frenchman pushed in, one arm clasped around an intimidatingly large bag of groceries. Toni followed cheerfully smiling.

"Er, hullo." Arthur said, finding himself forcing an uneasy grimace intended to be a smile.

"Hallo!" Gilbert burst out from the room behind him, barging his way through the tension the brothers emanated.

Arthur and Alfred found themselves squashed to the side as the trio greeted each other in a shamelessly giddy childish way. His younger brother looked particularly terrified as the group launched a take over of the kitchen. Unloading food, and more concerningly alcohol, out onto the counters and rummaging through the cupboards.

"Hang on! What is all this," Arthur said, putting his foot down as he gestured to the six packs of beer and large bottle of red wine. "I said no booze."

Only Gilbert stopped at his outrage, and even that was to offer brief 'what can you do' shrug. He felt his jaw fell agape. Looking across he found the same expression of disbelief across Alfred's face. What were they even thinking? He was supposed to be looking after him.

He latched onto the first arm passing him and pulled it the adjoining body out into the hallway.

"I'm supposed to be looking after my little brother," he hissed. Looking directly into Francis's blue eyes. Of all people to bring out, why did hit have to be him.

"You never mentioned a brother to me," He looked a little dejected. It's not like they meant anything to each other, was it? "We will make food for him too, mon ami. He is a big boy. I'm sure he will manage with big bother having a little fun. Oui, Alfred?"

Calling out to the nervous teen.

"Yeah… It's fine. I'll just stay upstairs." He quickly scurried away before Arthur could protest. Knowing that it truly was anything but fine, he had betrayed their trust. Proving himself to be just as emotionally unavailable as their father, only lacking the cheery mask.

Lingering a moment, he decided against following Alfred. After all, he thought it would be better to remain distant. The family meals, heart to hearts. They'd all been a mistake, he had to remind himself. A deviation from his plan.

"Smells good." He said, marking his return to the kitchen. It wasn't a lie, Toni stood over a large frying pan from which the beautifully sweet scent of caramelised onion and fried potato filled the room

"I'm making tortilla de patatas!" He grinned cheerfully. Arthur could only watch in awe as the trio worked seamlessly together in the kitchen. Francis seemed to be focusing on a salad, and even Gilbert was helping with a beer in his free hand.

He sat himself at the table, grabbing a can. It popped open with a nice fizz bubbling out of the opening. Quickly pressing his lips to the can letting the hoppy taste of beer fill his mouth.

The Spaniard expertly flipped the spanish omelette out onto a plate to completely cool. It was gigantic and thick, unlike any other that he'd had before. Toni sliced it much the same way you would a cake. Arranging it on the plates along side a fresh tomato salad, and French bread.

"Are you ready Arturo? Mi tortilla is the best in town."

"I wanted to make something French, but Toni reckoned you wouldn't touch it."

"Too bloody true. You'd probably want to make frogs legs or escargot!" Arthur grabbed a spare plate to bring up to Alfred. Perhaps this was a chance to mend a broken bridge, if only a little.

* * *

The door swung open under his knuckles as he went to knock. Revealing Alfred laying across the floor staring at the pause scene of some unknown video game.

"Er, food?"

The boy turned and looked at him, "Oh. Thanks."

Arthur took this as the invitation to step inside and place the plate next to him. Turning to leave the room he felt a pang of guilt. "I really am sorry you know."

"Sorry for what?" Alfred didn't even look up at him as he spoke.

"I didn't realise they'd all just turn up here like that." He waited at the doorway for a moment before realising Alfred wasn't going to reply. He felt a little rejected as he retreated down the stairs, but that couldn't be right. Isn't this what he wanted, to be ignored so he could leave without a trace.

* * *

His friends had started eating by the time he got back to the kitchen. Leaving him a space next to Gilbert.

"He is really upset." Arthur stated, taking his seat.

"Eh, he doesn't like tortilla? Or tomatoes!" He thought perhaps it was a joke, but catching Toni's eye he saw a face of true horror.

"No, no. Not about the food. It's my fault…"

The was a shuffle of feet under the table as Francis shot him a sympathetic look.

"Ouch, Frani. Why did you kick me too?"

"Because Toni cannot read the mood, and even though you can you choose to make stupid comments anyway. Let's talk about something else. How is school?"

Francis acted like a mother hen to the group. He felt oddly relieved by him, despite his conflicted feelings.

The chatter about studies carried through the dinner with Arthur making little contribution. He instead focused on the food. It was delicious, if a little oily. The salad had been coated in olive oil, not entirely unpleasant but he always preferred his salads undressed. The tortilla was something else. Although it was fairly plain in terms of ingredients; egg, potato, onion and pepper, the taste was perfect.

"So what do you plan on doing when you graduate Arthur?"

The question snapped him out of his food induced daydream. It was something he'd been trying to avoid thinking about.

"Probably… go back to England?"

"What?" The group unanimously looked at him, confusion plastered across their faces.

"I mean, I'm only on a one year student visa." Well, his father had tried to convince him to apply for permanent residence, but they had settled to work that out later.

"Why didn't you mention this before?" He had been expecting surprise, but Francis just sounded hurt,

"Uh, sorry. I guess I never really thought about it…"

"Sheiße. This calls for more beer."

Antonio pulled out some more six packs of beer as Francis refilled his wine glass. For a while nobody spoke around the table as they cleared their plates. The daunting pile of washing up teetered by the sink. Arthur ignored the fact he'd ruined the atmosphere by chugging down a second tin.

"Gott. This is boring. Let's have a drinking game."

"Spin the bottle?" Francis suggested with a wink.

"Bloody hell." Arthur nearly choked. Shooting the beer out of his nostril. The four had to laugh at that response.

"What about 'Never have I ever?' We can get to know Arthuro a bit better?"

* * *

Sat in a crowded huddle on the living room carpet, already stained with a little wine. Arthur sensed agreeing to play would be a decision he would regret for a while. The trio seemed to know each other well enough to keep forcing Gilbert to drink. It almost seemed to be a competition between Francis and Toni to get the German drunk.

"Hey Arthur, it's your turn," Toni called, shaking a hand before his face.

"Um, never have I ever… kissed a girl?" The question was met with groans and the sloshing of thee drinks.

"C'mon Arthur really?" Francis slurred noting his lack of participance.

"Gay." He said with a simple shrug. "Gil, you're next."

"A'right," He shakily tried to prop himself up against the sofa, "Never have I ever been arrested."

Arthur lifted the can to his lips, taking a deep chug. Only then did he realise he could easily have lied.

 **An: And on that bomb shell... I actually didn't mean for Arthur's visa status to only come up now, it's always been in my notes for him (when it I've finished the fic I'll probably make more revisions) And yes I realise it it hard to get a visa if you have a criminal record - hard but not impossible!**

 **My many thanks to all of you who have read this far, especially those of you who have followed, favourited and most especially reviewed! It means so much to me.**


	18. Chapter 18

**TW: mentions of past suicide attempt.**

* * *

The group looked at him with anticipation. "Well come on, aren't you going to tell us?"

He shifted uncomfortably on the spot. Eyes desperately shifting around to find something to detract from their attention. He felt a knot forming itself within his gut.

"It… it wasn't serious. I was just desperate." Tugging down on his sleeves as he spoke, the skin still tender and red from the scalding water yesterday. "But my brother walked found me… and called the police."

He remembered the moment vividly. The dirty dishcloth wrapped around his arm stained red, Alistor's face. Across the hall they'd been arranging the funeral. It had been a more of a shouting match between the siblings. He was only 17. They were all arguing over him, who would take him in. Passed around like he was the present at the centre of a children's party game. 'It would be better if I wasn't here' the thought grew into a scream in his mind. No way to deafen it.

As soon as he made the first cut he knew the mistake he'd made. But by then it was too late.

Apparently they'd had nowhere else to put him. So there he remained, in a cold, noisy holding cell.

He looked up to see his friends faces, relatively sobered by his confession. Only Gilbert remained able to maintain eye contact with him. Francis opened his mouth, but was unable to find the words to say, closing it again into a thin line.

Their awkward silence was soon interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

Simultaneously turning to look at the door the group caught a glimpse Alfred's dirty blonde hair.

"Shit," he gasped, scrambling up from the floor. Alcohol making him woozy he clipping his shoulder on the door frame as he staggered after Alfred. The boy had already made it up the stairs when he felt Gilbert's hand clasp over his arm.

"We should go." He said. Calling to Francis and Toni. His face softened from its usual grin to a more gentle, sympathetic smile. "You need to talk to him right?"

Nodding in reply Arthur hadn't expected Gilbert to be so adept at reading the mood.

"Don't worry about anything the awesome me will take care of the mess and I won't let Francis drive."

Toni had already started to gather up the cans from the floor. "You've been through a lot, amigo. I can't imagine."

Arthur raised a hand and gave a forced smile, stopping him from talking. He needed to compose himself to go up there and face Alfred.

Leaving his friends behind him he steadied himself against the wall. It took more effort than he anticipated to clamber up the stairs. His hands and feet felt clumsy underneath him, not entirely due to the alcohol in his system. Unable to maintain a steady breath, he felt his heart pounding in his chest.

Arriving outside Alfred's room the boy left the door hanging open.

Inside, he looked so much smaller and younger than he was. Crouched on the floor by his old tv, the pause screen of his game providing the only source of light. Would he pretend he hadn't heard anything?

"Alfred?" Sobering himself mentally as he waited for a reply. He could hear rustling downstairs, it sounded as if his supposed friends were packing up to leave. Not that he would blame them for it, even he didn't know what to say. Part of him hoped that Alfred would just ignore it.

"You're not really happy here are you."

"... no," the words catching in his throat as he said them.

The younger teen didn't turn to look at him, letting the words hang in the air. It hadn't really been a question.

"But," He shifted on the spot, meeting his brothers eyes in the dim light, hoping he couldn't make out the pleading nature of his voice, "You weren't happy there either."

Arthur nodded. Finally someone had noticed. It's was a quiet and wordless but it was still an acknowledgment. He really hadn't been happy. Not in England, and not here in America.

Eyes welling up with tears, he blinked. Trying his best to keep him from streaming down his cheeks. Stiff upper lip, and all.

"I'm not stupid. I know you don't think it can work, but Dad and I both want you here. If you let us, I think we could be a real family."

He didn't know if Alfred had seen the tears in his eyes as he spoke, but he definitely felt them as Arthur wrapped his arms around him. They were slightly hot, soaking into the shoulder of his t-shirt. The fabric remained slightly stretched and baggy since that night, where Arthur's fist gripped into it.

"I'll try Al. I'll try."

 **AN: This is kind of the last chapter. There will be an epilogue. I still feel like there is so much work to do on this fic, I want to go back and make the whole thing a more polished and condense the chapters so it's fewer longer chapters instead on 18 short ones.**

 **This was a really hard chapter to write, and I still feel like it isn't good enough, that it doesn't do the subject matter justice but I need to work on the fic as a whole to improve it. So for now this is it.**


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